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AMAYA

M y belly is full of eggs, toast, and bacon. I'm a little sleepy and a whole lot toasty. The pain meds are starting to kick in, taking my mind off of my leg. All of my mates surround me, talking softly to each other and chuckling at the TV every once in a while.

I'm not really sure what's on, and I didn't even notice it was a new TV until Oli pointed it out. Technology isn't really my thing. Especially not right now. I want to live in this little slice of heaven where my mates feed me breakfast, wrap blankets around me, and curl up to watch any movie of my choice.

It's perfect. It really is. Except there's an itchiness under my arms that won't go away, and it feels like I have a layer of grease and oil over every inch of my skin. I swear my thigh sticks to my calf when I stretch it out beside the one in the cast.

I can't relax knowing I haven't washed the past month off of me. At least, I think it's been a month. I've been trying so hard to ignore the world, but I think it's finally catching up to me, and if I didn't desperately want to shave my armpits and scrub myself clean, I think I could be happy just like this forever.

So, while my guys have been chatting and relaxing, I've been trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to get myself clean. Like actually clean without freaking out. I really don't think I'll be able to take a shower.

Every so often, Vincent and even Emmett glance at me like they can hear the gears moving in my head. I pay them no mind and work through what I know, which is that I don't want water pelting my skin, and I feel like scrubbing every inch of myself.

The other thing that's very obvious is I'll need help. I glare at my ankle, but even if I didn't have a fractured fibula, the truth is I would still need someone to help me. A panic attack in a slippery tub is the last thing I need.

'Tub.' I frown and cock my head. Yeah, a shower is in a tub . 'No. Bath.'

Chills race across the nape of my neck at the idea of submerging myself in water. With a groan, I throw my head back, my attention momentarily catching on to the pretty new peal-colored front door. I love it. I love everything Sam and Emmett did to my home.

"Sweetheart," Em murmurs beside me. "What's wrong?"

Pulling my head back upright, I study him. His black hair is a little messy today, flopping over his forehead and adding to his overall relaxing mood. Since that first day in the hospital, he's really calmed down again, especially when we're all together.

What I see when I look at my alpha is the same thing I saw when we were younger. He hurt me and thought the worst of me, but Oliver and Sam did too. They're trying. He's trying. I mean, shit, Emmett chose my front door because he said it reminded him of something my nana would love.

I need someone to help me in the bathroom, but I worry Samuel might stress me out a little, Oliver would worry too much, and Vincent would probably go feral again. Vince has been much better today, slowly coming out of his alpha haze. But I don't want to risk his sanity so I can shave my armpits.

Emmett, though, while he struggled after saving me, I know he'll still keep me from drifting too far from the world or sinking into my trauma. He can help me.

"Alpha," I whisper, but it comes out more like a soft whimper. I don't look to see if the others are paying attention to us because if I see that they are, I might chicken out and never try again. "Can you help me take a bath?"

The question comes out and I know right then I would rather bathe than shower. I may have drowned, but it was only once. I was viciously hosed down too many times to count. So I naturally go with the lesser evil.

Shock flicks across Emmett's face, and I blush, feeling embarrassed. I'm about to retract my request when a blinding smile lights him up. "Of course! Now?"

I nod, biting my lip. "Please?"

With a big grin, my alpha swoops me off the couch and tucks me into his chest. I hope he can protect me from my water demons long enough to at least rinse my hair off.

Something tickles my chin, and I'm forced to look away from the full tub. "Maya? Tell me what's wrong," Em whispers, looking pained and confused. My lip wobbles. "Sweetie, you asked me to help you. I can't help if I don't know what exactly I'm helping with, and I'm getting the sense this isn't about helping you in and out of the tub."

Blinking rapidly, I fight the frustrated tears that threaten to fall. "It's dumb," I mumble, playing with the tie on my robe.

"Why did you ask me to help?"

I frown. "What? Why would you ask that?" When he tells me to answer his question, I give in. "Because you won't let me drown. Literally and metaphorically."

Surprise and so much anguish twist his chiseled features. "My god, no. I would never let that happen, sweetheart."

I bob my head sadly. "I know. You would die before you let anything happen to me." I watch as he pales, making my belly twist with anxiety and sadness. "Oli told me why you've been struggling," I whisper, hoping I'm not making a mistake.

"He did? And what did the naughty beta tell you?" Em growls, but he doesn't look mad, thankfully.

I smile sadly. "That you fought until your last breath to save me. And you feel like you didn't do enough. Like you aren't enough for us. For me."

His head hangs, slumping his forehead to my shoulder. Cursing, he grumbles, "Oli shouldn't have told you that. You don't need to worry. I'm seeing a therapist. I'm working on my hang-ups, I swear."

Running my fingers through his hair, I bask in the feel and minty freshness of my mate. "I know, Alpha. Thank you for not giving up on yourself. It's why... that's why I need you right now."

Em pulls his head back and stares into my soul. "What do you need me to do?"

I gulp, clutching his shirt, and peek at the tub that smells like lavender. "Don't let me drown." When he frowns again, I add. "No shower. They-they used a hose, and I just—This will be easier."

I don't need to explain what might happen when my body is submerged in water; he knows. My alpha almost drowned, too.

Without overthinking the sad state of my bony body, I drop my robe and cling to my mate as he keeps his eyes trained on my face. I could cry with the respect he's showing me. He doesn't fall prey to the rage I saw flickering in his gaze when I told him about the hosings. I couldn't be more thankful than I am right now.

My scent blooms around us, my arousal obvious and embarrassing, but Emmett just kisses my forehead and says, "You got this, and I got you."

I sure hope so .